


the actual half of myself

by cosmicocean



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foggy's Moms Are Awesome, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicocean/pseuds/cosmicocean
Summary: Where soulmates have little identifying illustrations and initials somewhere on their bodies and Matt and Foggy can't get out of their own way.





	

When Foggy is a little boy, his grandmother purses her lips whenever she sees his right wrist. Grandma Nelson is an old school Catholic, believes in Heaven and Hell and the whole nine yards. She looks at the scarlet trident on his wrist with the black letters _MMM_ descending down it and frowns every time. She tries to get his parents to take him to church more often, but Marie and Alice Nelson have never been all that interested in religion, and they’re not about to start now.

“Does it mean that my soulmate is a bad person, Mama?” he asks one of his mothers one night when she’s tucking him into bed.

Mama sighs and sits next to him.

“No, baby,” she says. “It doesn’t.”

“Why’ve I got the pitchfork, then?”

Mama smoothes the sheets down. “Sometimes people struggle with stuff that makes them feel bad, and it’s like struggling with demons. It doesn’t make them bad. It just makes them complicated.”

“Oh. Okay.” He rubs the Mark absently. “I hope they don’t hurt.”

She smiles a little sadly. “Me too, baby.” She stands up and kisses his forehead. “There’s always the chance they’re a fisherman, anyway.”

 

His mothers explain to him about the private nature of the Marks, how traditionally they’re kept covered until people meet their soulmates. They tell Foggy he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, if he wants to show it to the world he’s free to. If he wants to cover it, there are two options. He could get a Patch, a covering in shades close to his skin. Or he could get a wrist cuff, since his is fortunate enough to be able to be covered by jewelry.

Foggy immediately picks the wrist cuff because _aw yeah awesome jewelry_. He and Mom spend an afternoon hot gluing sequins and jewels onto it. It looks pretty rad when they’re done.

 

One time when he’s eight, Foggy overhears Grandma Nelson say to Mama “you know, Alice, there’s scientific experiments you can sign him up for that might change his Mark”.

It’s not the first time he’s heard anyone swear, but it’s the first time he’s ever heard someone swear so colorfully and so loudly, and certainly the first time he’s ever heard Mama swear. 

They don’t see Grandma Nelson again for a long time.

 

Sometimes, Foggy lies on his bed and looks at his Mark, tracing it with his finger. He wonders a lot about them. He hopes they’re not hurting too bad.

_When I meet them,_ he resolves. _They won’t ever hurt again._

 

He always notices Mama and Mom’s Marks growing up. Mama’s is on her left shoulder like a little tattoo, _MAL_ over a rose. Mom’s is on her ankle, a kitchen knife with _ATN_ over it.

“I was very happy your Mama turned out to be a chef and not a serial killer,” she’ll tell Foggy with a grin. Mama will flick her on the back of the head.

“You would have offered to bury the bodies,” she retorts. 

Mom and Mama will smile at each other and it’s like they’re two halves of a whole. He wonders if they’ll smile at him like that, when they meet.

 

He tells Mama that he wants to go into law when he’s thirteen and she surprises him by rolling her eyes.

“Baby, when you were seven you smashed a hole in our table with a hammer because you were trying to call order in the court,” she tells him. “Trust me, I know.” She kisses the top of his head. “Ignore your mom. She just wants free ham to add to the free cupcakes she already gets from me.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Foggy grins at Mama. “Ham is awesome.”

Mama just sighs and shakes her head, lips quirked.

 

Mom still teases him about being a butcher (“you’re denying me free steak every night, Foggy, why would you do that to me, don’t be so cruel”) but when he gets his acceptance letter to Columbia, she cries and hugs Foggy and kisses his face all over until Mama pries her off saying “Marie, you’re gonna freak the kid out, Christ’s sake”.

 

Foggy discovers his roommate’s name is Matt Murdock and he might go a little apeshit on the research front. 

Because seriously. Come on. _MM._ He just needs an extra M. 

He makes “reasons maybe yes” and “reasons maybe no” lists because hell, he might as well be thorough.

Things on the Reasons Maybe Yes List:

-the dude’s name is Matt Murdock. _Matt Murdock_. How many double m-ed people can there be?

-it looks like from the articles he’s looked into that Murdock’s Catholic and there might be some devil shit involved there, right?

-apparently he’s kind of a hero from what Foggy’s been reading about and honestly it would be kind of cool to have a hero for a soul mate

On the Reasons Maybe No List:

-lots of people, according to the Internet

-just because someone’s Catholic doesn’t mean they’re intrinsically linked with the devil or anything, Franklin

-now you’re just plain reaching

He doesn’t tell his moms about the double m-ed dude. Just in case.

 

Foggy meets Matt Murdock _and so totally fucks it up._

Fortunately, Matt doesn’t seem to notice.

_Wounded duck_. Is there any worse way to shoot yourself in the foot, Nelson? Christ.

He’s really attractive, though. None of the articles about “Hero Boy Saves Old Man” mentioned that. Which, of course, why would they? He was a kid. That would be creepy.

But yeah.

Matt Murdock.

Really attractive.

Foggy Nelson.

Awkward ass.

 

Things Foggy knows about Matt after their first three days of living together:

-his Mark is on his back, and covered by a skin patch

-he looks even better shirtless

-he doesn’t give wide smiles like Foggy, but small quiet ones that are soft and gentle

-sometimes if he tries, Foggy can get him to giggle and even snort a little

-he’s brilliant

-Foggy may be a little in love with him already

 

They have a weird professor who reads off the roll call by full name about a week in when Matt misses class.

(“Stomach hurts,” he groaned from facedown in his pillow that morning. “I blame the cafeteria, they cook everything in the same vat.”

“You have literally no way of knowing that,” Foggy told him. Matt just groaned inarticulately even louder. Foggy rolled his eyes, gently patted the pillow over his head, and went to class, mentally adding _Matt is a drama queen when feeling ill_ to the list)

The professor reads off _Murdock, Matthew Michael_ and Foggy’s not even pretending when he excuses himself to go be sick because he does actually throw up a little when he makes it to the bathroom.

Sitting on the tile of the wheelchair accessible bathroom stall with his face pressed against the cool porcelain of the toilet as his stomach settles, Foggy contemplates his options.

First off, it’s totally Matt. There is no way around this, it’s got to be Matt. There is _zero_ chance of it not being him at this point.

And on the one hand, he kind of already knew. He did, emotionally or whatever, he knew it was Matt, and this is just confirmation of that.

And it’s kind of great too, right? Because this is what he wanted. _Still_ wants. This is perfect and it’s what he wants.

Also completely terrifying.

Because at this point, Matt would know too, wouldn’t he? Matt _should_ know. So that leaves a few of options open.

One is that he doesn’t actually have a Mark. This happens to people sometimes, it’s unusual but not unheard of. There’s a rumor that the girl in one of his classes, something Stahl, doesn’t have one, and that’s just what he’s heard about in the past week. And if that’s true, it’s no big, it’s whatever. People who don’t have Marks do just fine very often with people who are matched with them.

Another option is that he’s got the Mark of somebody else. People don’t always line up. It’s entirely possible Matt’s got someone else’s initials scrawled into his skin, and that’s… it could happen. And it would suck so _so_ much because Foggy is _so fucked_ , whenever he looks at Matt he already thinks of Matt as _his person_. It would suck and it would hurt and Foggy would grin and laugh and pretend like he wasn’t dying inside cause he already wants Matt to do what makes him happy _Jesus Christ he is so fucking fucked._

The final option is that Matt _does_ have his Mark, but he doesn’t want him.

Foggy honestly isn’t sure which is worse.

 

He decides not to say anything, because he is a big cowardly coward.

 

_“MATTHEW MICHAEL MURDOCK,”_ Foggy thunders as he walks into their room. Matt sits bolt upright from sleeping.

“Huwha?”

“ _I HAVE BEEN DECEIVED._ ”

Matt looks sleepily confused. It’s pretty adorable. “Deception’s bad.”

Foggy points an accusing finger at him. Just because Matt can’t see it doesn’t mean he can’t feel the accusing. “Civil Procedure does not have a Braille textbook available.”

Matt shifts a little. “It does not.”

“Are you _passing_ that class?”

Matt looks guilty. Good. “Technically speaking, yes.”

Foggy glares, trusting that the famous Nelson glare, known to pass through walls, will somehow penetrate Matt’s awareness. “How have you been doing the homework?”

“There might be lots of guesswork involved.”

“Fuckin’ A, Murdock.”

Matt gropes around for a shirt on the floor. “How do you know my middle name?”

“Thompson said it during roll call.”

Having successfully located a shirt, Matt tugs it on. “Thompson’s weird.”

“Stop changing the subject.” Foggy pulls out his Civil Procedure textbook. “When were you planning on doing this homework today?”

“Later? When I was awake?”

“Good, let me know when, because I’m reading it to you.”

Matt frowns. “You don’t have to do that.”

“This isn’t up for debate, Matt.” Foggy flips the book open to the correct page. “And then tomorrow I’m going to rip the administration a new one for not providing a Braille textbook because you can’t _not_ supply a student with a required material.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Matt repeats. 

“Course I do. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Also _the_ Best Friend, capitalized.” 

Foggy’s earmarking the textbook so he is caught off guard when Matt stumbles up behind him and hugs him, pressing his face into his shoulder. “Whoa.”

“Thanks,” Matt mumbles. Foggy reaches up to awkwardly grab at his wrists. He’s learned that Matt’s pretty tactile sometimes, like he’s reassuring himself that people are actually there. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Foggy doesn’t know a whole ton about Matt’s upbringing. He knows that he’s spent most of his life in an orphanage, and that he’s been on his own for a while. Evidently he’s been such for longer than Foggy thought. Foggy swallows the lump in his throat.

“Course I am,” he answers breezily. “I’m awesome.”

Matt snorts and shuffles off to the bathroom, leaving Foggy to have feelings.

Ugh. _Emotions._ Gross.

 

“Are there any cute boys?” Mom asks. Foggy can hear her chewing on what sounds like popcorn on her end.

“Marie, quit chewing in the kid’s ear,” Mama scolds. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Mom starts chewing louder.

“Of course there’s cute boys,” Foggy answers over Mama’s frustrated huff. “And cute girls.” Foggy is an equal opportunity kind of dude.

“You should get in on some of that.”

“ _Will you stop encouraging our son to get himself laid?_ ”

“It’s _college_ , Alice. _Everyone_ gets laid in college.” Mom’s tone suddenly changes to something a little more parental. “ _Do not tell me about it though._ No details. Details are bad. And for the love of _God_ use protection, your mama and I are still too young and hot to be grandmothers.”

Foggy rolls his eyes. “I will keep that in mind.”

Matt slips in the door from class. Foggy absently bumps Matt’s shoulder with his as he walks past, one of the things they’ve come up with in the past two and a half months as a stand-in for a wave or a greeting when the other is occupied.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Franklin.”

“You can’t see me, Mom, you don’t know I was rolling my eyes.”

“I know. I have Mom radar.”

Foggy rolls his eyes again. “I’ve gotta run, guys.”

“ _Surrrrre_ you do.”

“Let the boy escape your infernal chewing.”

“You know what-“

“GUYS,” Foggy says loudly. “I’M GOING TO HANG UP ON YOU NOW.”

“We love you, Foggy,” Mama says. “Don’t forget to-“

“I know, Mama, I’ll remember. I love you too.”

“Love you, Fogs.”

“Love you, Mom.”

Foggy hangs up the phone to see Matt grinning a little. 

“Were you rolling your eyes?”

Foggy grins back. “Maybe a little.”

Matt’s grin powers down slightly to a smile. “Your moms sound great.”

“My moms are _super_ great.” Foggy jumps on his bed with a _thwump_. “They met in college. Mama was doing an internship at a bakery, Mom saw her name was Alice when she was getting her coffee, figured that her Mark of a kitchen knife was probably related to cooking, flat-out asked her if her last name started with an _N_ , bam, that was it.” Foggy grins up at the ceiling. “My mom has never been one for subtlety.”

“Huh.”

Matt’s tone is weird so Foggy looks over at him. His mouth is a little tight. This is clearly a sign that if Foggy continues, he is going to make both of them unhappy, but fuck it, he’s always been the one to poke the metaphorical dead body with a stick.

“Have a thing about Marks?” he asks as casually as he can.

Matt shrugs awkwardly, his mouth suddenly a thin straight line. “I don’t like the idea of soulmates.”

Foggy raises his eyebrows. “It’s kind of not an idea, buddy.”

“No, I mean.” Matt picks at his sheets. “I don’t like this. This thing, about the Universe tying people together. I don’t want to be tied to any one person because of some- some stupid tattoo. I make my fate. No one else.”

Ah, so it _is_ a shitty option, just not one that Foggy predicted. Joy. He swallows. 

“I like it, dude,” he says, proud of the way his voice doesn’t tremble. “I think it’s romantic.”

Matt’s face twitches a little. “Hey, did Webb’s homework make any sense to you?”

Foggy gratefully grabs the out and runs with it.

 

Foggy’s pretty sure this means he and Matt don’t match because Matt would just resent him if he did and Matt doesn’t seem to hate him and this is _good_ , right, because he doesn’t want Matt to hate him. This is good and it is _so_ good that Foggy goes out and gets drunk that Friday night and sleeps with a cute med student.

When they wake up the next morning, Foggy looks blearily at the dude as he throws up in the wastebasket.

“M’Chad,” the guy mumbles, pressing his face against the floor.

“Foggy,” he answers groggily, wishing that his head would stop sounding like a drum.

Chad rubs his eyes. “You trying to get over someone?” At what must be the guilty look on Foggy’s face, he waves a hand. “Hey, me too, I don’t give a fuck.”

Chad’s actually pretty nice and Foggy doesn’t feel too bad when they amicably part and Foggy does the walk of shame with a coffee.

When he gets back to the dorm room, Matt’s reading something in his bed, face distant and a little tight.

“You smell like puke.”

“Good morning to you too, buddy.”

“Fun night?”

“Eh.” Foggy crawls into bed and under his covers. “Could be worse.” He sticks his head under a pillow. “Don’t want to do it again, though.”

“For the best,” he hears Matt mutter as he starts to doze off.

 

Foggy actually _does_ forget what Mama told him to remember for a few days because of the whole life being terrible for a while there. He remembers at midnight when Matt’s working on a paper.

“ _THANKSGIVING!_ ” Foggy yells. Matt groans.

“Don’t be loud,” he mutters. “I’m on too much caffeine for you to be loud.”

“I forgot about this.” Foggy spins around in his chair to face Matt, who is slumped over his desk and looks like he might be dying. “Whoa, dude, you need to sleep.”

“Paper due in 24 hours. Sleep is for the weak.”

“That’s because sleep is super-duper awesome.” Foggy stands up and starts tugging on Matt’s arm. “Come on, dude. Bed.”

Matt makes a loud, pitiful groaning sound that if anything bolsters Foggy’s determination to get him to his bed.

“Dude. Bed. Now.”

Matt grudgingly lets himself be pulled up by Foggy and he lands in his bed.

“Soooooooft.”

“It is.” Foggy pokes at him. “I need you conscious for another minute so I can ask you before I forget again.”

“Uuuuuuugh. Fine.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Probably staying here.”

“You wanna come to my house for Thanksgiving?”

Matt does open his eyes a little at that and sit up slightly. “What?”

“I asked my moms. They were actually going to tell me to ask you before I asked them. It’s not super big, either. We don’t really talk to Grandma Nelson anymore, so it’d just be my moms and my Aunt Teresa and Uncle Wilson and their two girls. And Mama’s a cook, so the food’ll be good.” Matt doesn’t say anything. Foggy starts to get nervous. “Or not, you don’t really have to, it was just a thou-“

“Yes,” Matt interrupts. “Yes. I would like that.”

“Oh. Cool.”

 

“You seriously didn’t need to bring chocolate,” Foggy tells him as they walk up to his door, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“People bring gifts when they stay in other people’s houses,” Matt insists. “It was this or flowers and one of your parents is a florist.”

“Are you trying to woo my moms?” Foggy finds his key in his pocket.

“You caught me,” Matt deadpans. Foggy snorts as he opens the door.

“Mom? Mama? We’re here.” No response. Foggy pokes his head around. “Guys? You here somewhere? Please be wearing pants,” he adds in a quiet mutter.

The fire alarm suddenly starts screaming. Matt jumps. Foggy lets out an inarticulate yell that coincides with Mom’s inarticulate yell as she pinwheels into the hallway waving a broom.

“ _It’s the one in the kitchen!_ ” she yells. “ _I’ll get that one while you cover here in a pre-emptive strike!_ ”

Foggy grabs the smoke alarm on the ceiling and tugs out the batteries while he hears his mother hit the smoke alarm in the kitchen until it falls down and she can pull out the batteries. She stumbles into the hallway still clutching the broom, red hair crazy.

“I was trying to make spaghetti,” she tells them.

“You’re not allowed to cook. What, I leave for a few months and all the rules go out the window? Cats and dogs, living together?”

“Shut up, dear.” 

Foggy turns to Matt, who is standing looking vaguely shellshocked by the door where Foggy left him. He gently guides him forwards. “Sorry. Bit of a louder introduction to my house than I wanted to give you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Mom, this is Matt. Matt, this is my Mom.”

Matt holds out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson.”

“Nope, none of that Mrs. Nelson crap, that makes me sound old. Marie is just fine. No handshaking, either. My boy talks about you all the time, you get a hug.” Mom stands on her tiptoes and gives a startled looking Matt a hug, which he returns after a moment. “All right, now you, Foggy.”

“Matt gets first hug. Clearly you already like him better than me.”

“It’s the only explanation _I_ can think of.” She hugs him tightly, standing on her tiptoes to give Foggy a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home, Foggy.”

“Hi, Mom. Where’s Mama?”

“She’s out getting some more supplies for cooking. It’s not Thanksgiving if your mother isn’t doing a panic run.” She motions towards the stairs. “Go take Matt up to your room and put your bags up there.”

Foggy leads Matt up the stairs to his room. The air mattress is already on the floor, complete with pillows and a comforter.

“It’s gonna be a little cramped. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” Matt looks perfectly content. “It’s just fine.”

 

“We have three loaves for the stuffing, Alice,” Mom says when Mama sweeps in with a bag containing two loaves of bread, dark hair windswept, face harried.

“Really?” she answers vaguely. “Oh, well.” She absently kisses Foggy on the top of the head where the three of them are sitting at the table, drinking hot chocolate. Then she does the same with Matt and leaves the kitchen. Matt looks confused as Foggy and Mom grin.

“Wait for it,” Mom says. Mama suddenly appears in the doorway, looking startled.

“ _Did I just kiss a child that is not mine who I do not know on the head?_ ”

Foggy and Mom start cackling.

 

“Tell Uncle Matt about the time you caught the frog in the pond upstate,” Molly tells Foggy excitedly.

Aunt Teresa and Uncle Wilson took Matt’s presence gracefully, Uncle Wilson shaking Matt’s and Aunt Teresa kissing his cheek. But Molly and Anna, Foggy’s nieces? They _love_ Matt, already calling him Uncle Matt. Foggy had started to intercede, but stopped when he saw how delighted Matt looked.

Foggy shrugs. “One time I caught a frog in a pond upstate.”

Anna and Molly groan as Mama passes Aunt Teresa the mashed potatoes. “You’re not _telling_ it right, Uncle Foggy,” Anna says.

“Was it a Foggy Froggy?” Matt asks in a murmur, smiling as Mom dishes out turkey to him. Molly and Anna giggle.

“You’re a bad influence, Matthew Michael Murdock.”

Matt grins widely. “Proudly.”

“Foggy, don’t be rude to Matt,” Mama says. “Matt, don’t encourage Foggy’s behavior. Would you like some cranberry sauce?”

(Foggy doesn't miss the glance his moms exchange when he says Matt’s full name)

 

“Foggy!” Mama calls up the stairs. “Come help us Tupperware, we’re gonna need to go soon!”

Foggy stands. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

“Tupperwaring.”

Matt clearly still doesn’t understand, but he shrugs. “Okay.”

Mom and Mama are in the kitchen, sealing the leftovers in the Tupperware. Mama shoves some of the turkey at Foggy. “Put this in that one.”

“What are you doing?” Matt repeats.

“After every Thanksgiving we donate the food to a shelter.” 

“She always makes too much,” Mom says. “I’m pretty sure she does it on purpose at this point.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mama counts them up. “So between the four of us, we should be able to carry them reasonably.”

Matt looks startled. He hasn’t worn his glasses while he’s been here, something Foggy knows is a sign of trust and has affected him more deeply than he’s let on. Matt doesn’t seem to know how expressive he is, and he’s even more so without the glasses. “Four of us?”

“Of course.” Mom starts stacking them up. “It’s a family ritual, Matt. You’ve got to come.”

Matt swallows. “Thank you.”

Mama smiles at him. “You’re welcome.”

 

After they get back to the dorms, Foggy sends his mothers an email, subject line simply reading _Matt_.

_You figured it out, didn’t you? Who he is?_

He gets one back almost immediately.

**Yes. Does he know?**

_Matt doesn’t like soulmates. I don’t want him to resent me. I haven’t told him._

**That’s ridiculous.**

_That’s the way it is._

**Okay. We love you.**

Foggy knows what that means. It means “we don’t agree with this but you’re a grown ass man who can make his own decisions and we’ll stand by you”. He appreciates it.

 

For a while, everything’s good. Matt gets giggly when he’s drunk, and Foggy raises hell when the classes don’t offer Braille textbooks, and it’s beautiful.

And then Elektra Natchios happens. 

Elektra is beautiful in a way you hear about in fairy tales, and Matt lights up around her. Matt has a tendency to go through girls and boys and one night stands, so at first Foggy isn’t overly concerned.

Then a month passes, and two. Then Foggy realizes this is serious.

And it’s fine, really. His Mark might change. Marks do that, once in a blue moon. Elektra and Matt seem to click perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Maybe Matt’s Mark matches hers, and it’s made Matt reevaluate his position on soulmates. Maybe they’ll get married, and they’ll have perfect adorable little babies because Matt and Elektra’s genes can only lead to beauty.

He’ll be the greatest uncle ever, he thinks once while he drinks. Then he pukes.

 

Marci Stahl has no Mark, and even if she did, Foggy wouldn’t match with her. Marci knows she’ll never fall in love with him, and Foggy knows that he’ll never fall in love with her. But neither of them care. Marci is one of the smartest people he’s ever known, and she’s funny in a cold sort of way, and the sex is _great._ Marci keeps his secrets, is the only person outside of his family that’s ever seen his Mark.

“Oh, Foggy Bear,” she says softly when she sees, in the kindest tone he’s ever heard from her. “Does he know?”

Of course she knows instantly who it is. “He wouldn’t still be my friend if he did.”

Marci understands instantly in that unique way of hers that means she won’t talk to him about it because he doesn’t _want_ to. Instead she kisses his forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture for her.

“Want to go make out in a movie theater?” she asks.

“Yes please.”

Everyone assumes they’re dating, even Matt. Foggy would say it’s a Best Friends With Benefits deal, but he doesn’t bother to contradict them.

(she’s not his best best friend of course)

(that honor belongs to the love of his life)

 

“Elektra doesn’t like me,” Foggy tells Marci while they study together. Marci looks up.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because she never talks to me when the three of us hang out.” Elektra and Matt are attached at the hip, so the three are together often. “And she always has this look on her face when I talk, like-“ Foggy scrunches up his nose like he smells something bad. “Like that.”

“Have you talked to Matt about it?”

Foggy rolls his eyes. “He says Elektra just has complicated relationships with feelings.”

“So he already knew. Hm.” Marci can smell bullshit from a mile away.“I wonder why.” She flashes her teeth at him in one of her smiles that are predatory and teasing all at once. “You’re adorable.”

Foggy flips his hair, recently cut to shoulder length.

 

And, eight months after they’ve been together, it’s over.

Matt shows up in the dorm one night, looking shaken and exhausted.

“She’s gone,” he mumbles. “She doesn’t want me anymore.”

Foggy wraps his arms around Matt while he cries, and puts a blanket on him when he finally gets to sleep, eyes red rimmed and face still damp.

 

They don’t see Elektra around campus much anymore. Foggy assumes that she’s taking careful pains to avoid Matt.

 

“I want to stop sleeping together,” Marci says to Foggy when they’re eating dinner consisting of Ramen and bacon.

Foggy blinks. “Okay. Did I do something?”

“No. I just think that’s run it’s course.”

Foggy shrugs. “Okay. If that’s what you want, that works for me. Can we still be friends?”

Marci smiles. “Yes.”

“Okay then.”

It’s true. He doesn’t actually mind. As long as he’s still got Marci’s friendship, it works for him.

 

College comes and college goes. Matt comes for every Thanksgiving and Christmas to the Nelson household. Mom keeps knitting him hats. Mama’s gifts for him vary. Foggy’s so grateful to have his mothers, more grateful than ever before, that they not only haven’t told Matt who Foggy is to him, but that they’ve welcomed him into their home and their family despite Foggy not saying anything, that to them Matt’s already part of their world.

They get the internships at Landman and Zack, and Foggy knows Matt hates it from the second they set foot in there. When Matt proposes they start their own firm, Foggy complies faux reluctantly but gratefully, in truth hating it as much as Matt.

(there was never any question or discussion about the two of them sticking together)

 

They meet Karen Page, and she is beautiful and she is honest and she is smart and she is _exactly_ Matt’s type. Foggy won’t blame him if he falls in love with her. Hell, Foggy thinks he might be a little in love with her. When she comes to work for them, Foggy feels he’s pretty much fucked, but it’s easier than it was with Elektra. If someone ends up with Matt, he figures it might as well be someone he likes, and who likes him.

 

Karen and Matt are friends, but it never seems to expand past that. Which is kind of cool.

 

Dropping in on Marci at work is relatively painless. They’ve kept in touch over the years, bonded over the fact that they have some Mark Bullshit going on and mutual admiration of the other’s work.

“I can’t help you, Foggy Bear,” she says in a soft tone, eyes glancing around in the lobby to make sure none of her bosses are present. “You know that, they’ll kick me out.”

Foggy sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I figured, Marce. Thanks anyway.”

Foggy and Karen turn around and head out of the building.

“Foggy Bear?” Karen asks with a grin.

“Keep on walking, Page.”

 

“You’re not gonna kiss me,” Matt says and Foggy thinks _don’t be so sure._

 

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen continues to roam the street. Foggy watches his news coverage closely. His chest hurts whenever they call him that, call him that word that too closely aligns with the red trident hiding under his wrist cuff. What if he got it wrong? What if his soulmate isn’t Matt but this- this _asshole?_

He decides one night, as he’s obsessively combing the news, that it doesn’t matter. He’s in love with Matt, knows it bone deep, and if this new guy comes along, this man in black who prowls the back alleys like he owns them, well, tough shit. He should have thought about that before he started beating people up. Or before Matt came along. Whichever.

 

The Devil’s activity increases. Matt comes in with more cuts and scrapes the day after particularly bloody fights from the Devil. Foggy starts to wonder.

Cause the thing is, Matt’s actually pretty co-ordinated. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to avoiding shit. So when he smiles ruefully and says that he tripped on his rug, or walked into a wall, Foggy doesn’t believe him for a second.

The choices to Foggy seem to be:

-fight club

-the punching bag during Matt’s boxing swinging back and slamming him in the face

-the Devil

Punching bags don’t do the type of damage to one’s face that Matt’s got. So that leaves fight club and the Devil. Foggy’s not inclined to believe the former, which leaves…

 

Foggy doesn’t come into work for a couple days after he figures it out.

He _does_ storm around his apartment, throw a tantrum, and loudly yell “that _dickbag!_ ” multiple times.

The night before he goes back to Nelson & Murdock (because he _has_ to go back) he traces the trident and the looping letters on his wrist.

Was Matt even really blind?

Was Matt even really ever his friend?

 

“You got over your stomach bug pretty quickly,” Matt observes, a new cut over his eye, when Foggy comes back.

“Turned out to be a 48 hour thing,” Foggy says breezily, ignoring the wave of nausea and anger he feels at the sight of Matt. _You’re lying to me, you’re lying to me, every damn day you’re not telling me the truth when you know that you could._

Matt looks mildly unconvinced but seems to decide to roll with it. “Okay.”

 

Foggy’s not that surprised, really, when the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is lying bloody and broken on his floor.

He’s too terrified to even make a snarky comment about what an esteemed visitor he has.

 

Matt doesn’t die.

During a lull in the accusations and anger, he says “you don’t seem that surprised.”

Foggy’s lips twist in a way he knows is ugly. “I put the pieces together a few weeks ago.”

Matt’s silent. “When you said you had the stomach bug.”

“Yes.”

Matt swallows. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Foggy snorts. “Oh yeah? Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“No, I mean…” he takes a deep breath. “I can see soulmarks, when they’re uncovered.”

Foggy jumps to his feet again, his hand clapping to cover his wrist instinctively. “You _what?_ ” He feels sick. What if Matt has known the whole time? What if he’s just been stringing him along? What if-

“I don’t know yours,” Matt says quickly. “You’ve never had yours uncovered in front of me. I don’t know what yours looks like.”

Foggy studies Matt’s face, sees only stark honesty like he’s never witnessed before in Matt.

“Okay,” Foggy says, a little reluctantly. “Okay. I believe you.”

It’s one of the few things he believes, before he storms out.

 

He goes to his moms’s house that night. Opens the door with the key he still has, quietly heads into the kitchen and makes himself a hot chocolate. 

Eventually, Mom comes down in gray sweatpants and a loose Batgirl shirt to get something. She often makes midnight snack runs to the kitchen. She blinks at him. “Foggy?”

He starts crying. He can’t help it. It’s been an emotionally fragile day and he’s so fucking brittle right now. 

“Oh, honey.” Mom walks over to him and wraps her arms around him, kissing the top of his head and then resting her cheek on it. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Matt. He’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Mom stills. Then sighs. “This sounds like something you need both of us for. Let me go get your mama.”

Mom disappears, then returns with Mama shortly. Mama yawns, stretching in her purple shorts and her Star Wars shirt. “What’s going on, baby?”

“Matt’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Mom says.

Mama freezes and then sits down at the table next to Foggy, hugging him tightly. “Oh, sweetheart.” 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Mom asks.

So Foggy tells them. He tells them everything Matt told him, from beginning to end. His moms listen patiently, only interrupting if they want Foggy to specify something. When he finishes, he gets a glass of water, throat hoarse.

“So he’s never seen your Mark?”

“He says no. I believe him.”

Mom blows all the air out of her cheeks. “This straight up sucks, Fog.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he repeats. 

“Are you gonna go back to him?” Mama asks.

“I don’t know.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if… I don’t know if I can trust him.”

And that’s the stark honest truth, isn’t it? Matt Murdock, who came into his life and carved himself a piece of his heart, has lied to him all the while he’s known him. The brilliant, amazing, wonderful man that Foggy is tied to by the skin on his wrist, has lied their whole time together. How can Foggy trust him? How?

“Love is supposed to be blind, isn’t it?” He asks his moms. They exchange a glance.

“Your mom can be too flippant,” Mama says.

“Your mother can have a real rod up her ass sometimes,” Mom adds.

“She routinely tries to burn our apartment down when she tries to cook now that you’re gone and makes all the smoke alarms go off.”

“She’s a little manic about cleaning sometimes.”

“These things are true that we know about each other,” Mama tells Foggy.

“But it doesn’t stop us from loving each other,” Mom finishes.

“Love is blind sometimes, Foggy. Sometimes for a little while. But not always. You can love Matt and not trust him, as much as it hurts. You can love Matt and hate him, too.” 

“I don’t hate him. I think.”

Mom takes Foggy’s hand and squeezes. “Whatever you do, we support you.”

 

Foggy goes back to Matt, because in the end, he’ll always go back to Matt.

“I told my moms about you,” Foggy says in the gym. Matt frowns. “And before you start, you had it coming.”

Matt relents. “That’s fair.”

 

They save the day. Matt comes out of it with minimal injuries and the morning after, Foggy sees him, the morning they have the plaque on their building, Matt says “avocados at law” and his heart swells with the fact Matt remembers and he wants nothing more than to kiss him.

He doesn’t.

 

And things are okay for a while. They start getting and winning more cases. After one, Foggy and Karen get drunk to celebrate. Matt doesn't join them, citing some papers he needs to look over but Foggy knows he’s probably on rooftops tonight, which may contribute to the amount that he drinks.

Karen and Foggy lie on Foggy’s floor.

“Psst,” she whispers. “Psst, can I tell you a secret?”

“Yea.”

She takes her silver armband off her shoulder and shows Foggy. On it is a pair of crossed Sai swords and the letters _EAN_ in flowing cursive. 

“Why do you think they have swords?” Karen murmurs. 

“I bet they’re a badass. Like, they do it for fun and shit.”

Karen giggles. “Maybe you’re right.”

The next morning, they wake up with headaches. Karen freezes in the middle of moaning about it. “Oh god. I showed you my Mark.”

Foggy stops. “I remember.”

“Oh god.” Karen looks panicky. Foggy immediately puts his hands on her shoulders. 

“Hey, no, don’t freak out.” He comes to a decision lightning fast. “I can show you mine, if that makes you feel better.”

Karen looks startled. “Really?”

“Really really.”

Karen swallows. “Okay.”

Foggy takes a deep breath, then removes his wrist cuff. Karen looks at the looping letters and the trident.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. She looks up at Foggy. “It’s Matt, isn’t it?”

“You can’t tell him. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t like soulmates.”

Karen stares. “Are you okay with that?”

Foggy thinks of every time he sees Matt’s smile and how his stomach flip flops, how whenever Matt gives a compelling argument in court he wants to kiss him senseless, how whenever Matt is just _Matt_.

“I’ve made my peace with it.”

Karen stares at the trident. “What does that mean? Matt’s not particularly interested in swimming. It almost looks like a…” Karen trails off and gazes at Foggy. “Oh my god. He’s Daredevil, isn’t he?”

Foggy’s heart jumps. 

“He made me swear,” Foggy says. Karen slaps him. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“You _asshole_ , how dare you-“

“He made me _swear,_ Karen.”

Karen glares at him, then glances at his wrist. Her shoulders slump slightly from their furious pose. “I’m still mad at you. But I get why you did it.”

“Thank you for that. You’re totally right to be pissed at me.”

“I’m _furious_ with Matt.”

“That I also don’t blame you for. I was pretty enraged too.”

She clears her throat. “So, I’m gonna have to go visit my parents for a week or so.”

“Understood.”

 

Matt clearly doesn’t fully believe that Karen just misses her folks, but he deals with it. Foggy misses Karen, but after day three she texts him a picture of a trash can with the caption “is this u” and he knows that the two of them are going to be okay.

And then _she_ comes back.

Foggy comes with two coffees, already talking. He’s taken to starting to talk in the elevator, knowing Matt can hear him. “-I swear to God she was hitting on me, Matt, that barista, but-“ He stops, barely avoiding dropping the coffee.

Elektra is leaning against Karen’s desk lazily, arms folded. Matt’s stiff as a board, arms rigid at his side. 

“Oh.” Elektra’s tone is chilly. “Nelson.”

Foggy feels his lips thin out a little. “Elektra. Why are you here?” He turns to Matt. “Why is she here?”

Matt looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “Elektra wants my help.”

“Yeah? With what?”“A job,” Elektra says, long legs sheathed in pants and stretched out lazily. 

“Matt’s got a job.” 

“And what a job it is.”

“Hey, you know what-“ This woman broke Matt’s heart and hates Foggy for no apparent reason. He has no interest in being patient or polite. 

Elektra doesn’t want to take me from this job,” Matt cuts in quickly. “She wants me for a different kind of job.”

“A different kind of-“ It clicks. “No.”

Matt looks unhappy. “Yes.”

“Are you kidding me?” Foggy wants to dump his coffee all over the great love of his life very much. “So the whole time you two were together, you were off- off vigilanting?”

“No,” Elektra answers coolly. “Sometimes there was the sex.”

Foggy hates her. “Matt, you didn’t think to tell me this?”

Matt seems sheepish as well as miserable now. “I honestly forgot.”

A flicker of something passes over Elektra’s smooth face. Hurt, maybe? Her tone betrays none of that. “You wound me, Matthew.”

“You left, Elektra, not me. I’m not doing this with you.”

Elektra frowns. “I haven’t been able to take down this mafia on my own, and I know you haven’t, either. We can do it together.”

“You believe in killing people, I don’t. I won’t do this with you if you’re going to kill people.”

Elektra purses her lips. “You drive a hard bargain, Matthew.”

“Hard bargain of not killing people?” Foggy snaps. “That’s tricky for you, is it?”

“Don’t test me, Nelson.”

“Try something, go ahead.” Foggy knows damn well is that if she ran around with Matt, she’s probably just as skilled as he is, but he honestly doesn’t care. Let her try to pull something. Matt would probably stop her, anyway. 

“Elektra,” Matt says sharply. “If you touch him, you will never see me again.”

Foggy’s filled with that rush of feeling he gets when Matt says something like that, something surprisingly honest and warm. Matt’s always been like that. Even though he didn’t tell Foggy the truth for years, there’s always been something sincere about Matt’s approach to their friendship. Something close, something Foggy’s always figured was something what real love was like. Foggy knows it’s paradoxical. He just knows it makes sense in his head.

Matt loves him, this Foggy knows. Just because he doesn’t love him the way he wants him too, just because he loves him platonically, it’s not any less strong. 

Elektra sighs. “If you insist.”

 

“Elektra’s back,” Foggy tells Marci over drinks. Marci groans.

“ _That_ bitch? Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What does she want?”

“Matt’s help with something.”

“Hmph. Well, if it’s help with her vagina, we’re gonna have a word.”

Marci’s comment achieves its goal, making Foggy spit out his beer.

 

Karen comes back to find Matt bloody in their office after her week off. She unleashes hell on him.

 

Afterwards, Karen slumps in a chair next to Foggy.

“Are you okay?” she asks Matt, voice hoarse.

Matt nods.

“Good.” She leans her head on Foggy’s shoulder. “Good.”

 

The next morning, Karen comes to a halt when she sees Elektra, sitting on her desk.

“Oh,” she says. “Hello. Who are you?”

“Elektra.” She gives Karen a sparkling smile, the kind she never gives to Foggy but seems to offer to other folk often. “Matt and I are in the same line of work.”

Karen stares at her.

“Get off my desk,” she says finally. “It’s for the work of normal people, not for lounging around.”

Foggy’s never loved Karen more.

 

“I hate her so much,” Foggy tells Karen when she’s over for one of their “booze and bitch about Matt” nights. “I’m so fucking mad.”

“I know.”

“I hate her stupid perfect hair and her stupid perfect body and her stupid fucking Sai swords and-“

“Wait.” Karen’s suddenly gone pale as she holds up her hand. “Sai swords?”

“It’s Elektra’s weapon of choice.”

“What’s her last name?”

“Natchios, why-“ Foggy realizes all of the sudden, remembers the letters and the symbol on her shoulder. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

Karen swallows. “Oh.”

“Karen, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been-“

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s going to be okay.” Karen takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t even know her. I don’t even know if I want to be with her. Let me get to know her and- and we’ll go from there.”

“All right.” Foggy takes Karen into a hug. “We’ll be smart about it.”

 

One night there’s a knock on Foggy’s window. He looks up to see Elektra leaning against it, her right hand on her left arm, which appears to be bleeding. He opens the window.

“Hello?” It instinctively comes out as a question. 

“I’m injured,” she says, voice dripping with reluctance. “Matthew said to come here.”

It makes sense. Foggy took a first aid class after Fisk and he learned how to do stitches from a nurse they helped out with a case once. He lets her in and she stumbles over to his couch, already stained from Matt coming in. Foggy doesn’t mind anymore.

“Sit.” She does. “Let me see.”

It’s a relatively minor wound, doesn’t even need stitches. Foggy starts to clean it.

“You’re good at this,” she says grudgingly. Foggy blinks at the unexpected compliment.

“Thank you.”

They spend the next ten minutes in silence. When he’s done, she stands, gives him a nod, and leaves from his window. He sits for a spit second, then stands and yells out of it “ _I have a door, you know!_ ”

 

It becomes an odd ritual. Elektra shows up at Foggy’s doorstep, Foggy patches her up, she leaves, all done in total silence. Matt doesn’t like it, somewhat obviously. He frowns when Foggy comes in after a week of this.

“You smell like Elektra,” he tells Foggy while they’re going over case files. Foggy looks up.

“Good to know, buddy?”

Matt _harrumphs_.

 

Foggy dares to ask The Question after roughly a month of Elektra showing up at his door. She’s warmed to him vaguely, saying “hello” and “goodbye” for each encounter.

“Hey, Elektra?”

She looks startled at the break in protocol. “Yes?”

“Why do you hate me?”

Elektra tilts her head. “I don’t hate you, Nelson.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Elektra considers him. “Nelson, would it be safe to assume that you’re good at keeping secrets?”

Foggy doesn’t know where this is going, is almost certain he’s going to regret it. He nods his head. Elektra sighs. 

“I _did_ hate you, for a long time,” she tells him. “I hated how close you were to Matthew. You were close with him in a way I could never be. And that was bothersome to me.”

“You were the one who broke up with him.”

“Would you like to know why?”

Foggy doesn’t answer but it must be on his face, because Elektra nods and tugs off her shirt.

“Whoa, I don’t like where this is-“

“Oh, grow up, Nelson.” She tugs off the red turtleneck underneath, showing a black sports bra. “Trust me, I have no interest in sleeping with you.”

“I’m flattered.”

She looks almost amused. “I doubt you care.”

He has to give her that.

“I left Matthew because I realized if he meant to me what I meant to him, he would have told me by then. I was only hurting myself by staying.” She turns around and in the split second before it actually happens, he knows what he’ll see.

An identical copy of his Mark, on the back of Elektra’s right shoulder.

“Oh,” he whispers.

“Yes,” Elektra agrees. “Oh.”

 

And weirdly, after that, things become easier.

Foggy knows where he stands, and so does Elektra. Slowly, they begin to talk.

“Did you actually go to college with us?” Foggy asks. “Or is there some weird assassin for hire bullshit going on there I don’t want to know about.”

She smiles at him for the first time. “Originally, yes. Then I met Matthew and decided to stay for a bit.”

“Huh.” He thinks about it. “Did you ever take any of Thompson’s courses?”

She pulls a face. “Thompson was weird.”

“Right?”

 

“You need to learn how to spar,” Elektra tells Foggy one night. “I’ll teach you.”

Foggy’s startled. “Really?”

“Yes. You run with assassins and devils, you need to learn how to keep up.” Elektra cleans one of her Sai swords, then puts it back in the sheath. “Matthew’s not going to be thrilled that I’m the one doing it and not him, but he’ll get over it.”

Foggy frowns. “Is that one of the reasons you’re doing it?”

She grins at him slyly. “Maybe.”

 

Elektra is surprisingly patient with him as she’s teaching him. She’s slow but sure, and Foggy learns.

A week after they’ve started, Matt finally smells the blood on Foggy’s knuckles.

“Were you ambushed?” he asks, clearly worried. “Did someone-“

“I wasn’t,” Foggy interrupts. “Elektra’s teaching me how to fight.”

Matt looks a little hurt. “You didn’t ask me?”

“I didn’t ask anybody. Elektra offered.”

“I’d do it.”

Foggy smiles and bumps his shoulder with Matt’s. “I know you would, buddy. But she offered.”

“Okay.” Matt looks vaguely defeated, so the next day Foggy buys him coffee and a croissant from Annie’s Bakery. He seems to understand what he means because he gives Foggy a sunny grin that absolutely does not make his stomach flip.

 

Elektra shows up at his apartment a few weeks after they start practicing sparring. Foggy immediately pulls out the first aid kit, but she shakes her head, looking hesitant.

“I thought perhaps… we might just watch television?” she says tentatively. “I thought maybe it would be nice.”

Foggy grins.

“Yeah, of course. Let’s do it.”

They watch the breakfast episode of _Cutthroat Kitchen_ together, Elektra’s slender legs curled up under her, almost catlike. Her commentary is a marvelous thing, and Foggy can genuinely say he’s had fun.

 

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat. “You and Elektra.”

Foggy looks up from the files he’s been poring over and blinks. “What?”

“You two seem to be… happy.”

It’s true. Elektra will occasionally bring him a sandwich at the office, citing that cats bring humans dead things because they thinks they can’t feed themselves and she’s operating on the same principle with Foggy. It’s an odd sort of friendship they’ve struck up, and one Foggy is thoroughly enjoying.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated each other.”

Foggy shrugs. “We worked it out. She's pretty cool, now that she’s stopped killing people.” Foggy’s life is so weird.

“Ah.” Matt clears his throat again. “I’m glad the two of you are happy.”

“Thank you?” Foggy frowns. There’s something Up here. He’s not sure what, but it’s definitely Up with a capital U. 

“So, if I can ask, do you two… are you…” he gestures at Foggy’s wrist awkwardly and after a terrifying second of _oh god he knows_ Foggy realizes what he’s trying to say.

“No! God, no. She’s not- we’re not-“ Foggy struggles. “I would date Elektra over my own dead body.”

“That’s rather unkind of you,” Elektra says, slinking into the room. Foggy looks in her direction.

“Matt thinks we’re dating,” he says bluntly. Elektra wrinkles her nose.

“Ew.”

“Hey. I am a catch.”

She pats him on the top of the head. “Of course you are, Franklin.”

Matt looks relieved. Foggy wonders if it’s because he dated Elektra and he wants to spare Foggy the pain that went down with them.

That’s sweet, sort of.

 

The thing about being a law firm that takes on cases usually connected to poor people getting attacked by criminal organizations is you get a lot of threats.

It’s really true. Karen has their first one framed in her section of their office. She also has a neat little stack of them that they flip through when they’re not sure if they’re actually doing any good or not. It’s never been something they’ve worried about, especially now that everyone knows Matt is Daredevil. Foggy worries that they’ll hurt him, of course, and he knows Karen does too, but the really bad threats go away and Matt usually comes away with nothing worse than a split lip.

This is one of the reasons it’s so surprising when Karen suddenly gets dragged into an alley by her hair screaming when she and Foggy are walking home together one night.

Foggy dashes after her to see her kicking one of five dudes in the balls. One of them turns around at the sound of Foggy approaching. Foggy swings and slams his fist into the guy’s face. He staggers back. Someone slams a trash can lid into his back and he groans, but he turns around, uses the guy’s weight against him like Elektra taught him, and grabs the trash can lid. He uses it to block the next punch, and the next. He chucks it to Karen, who slams it into a dude’s head. She pulls her pepper spray out and maces the shit out of one guy. 

One of them pulls a knife and swipes at Foggy. He cuts across Foggy’s arm and Foggy swears. He kicks the guy in the chest, wrestles the knife out of his hand. He remember Elektra showing him how to flip a man and charges at him, easily turning the guy so he’s on the ground. 

Karen finishes beating a guy down with her purse. The two of them look at each other gasping.

“I want a raise,” Karen wheezes.

“Done,” Foggy agrees. 

Karen looks over his shoulder. He turns around to see Elektra and Matt standing there. Elektra bends over the pepper sprayed man. “Did you do this, Karen? It’s impressive.”

Karen grins a little. “Thank you.”

Matt is in front of Foggy instantly. “We came as quick as we heard,” he tells Foggy frantically. “Your arm-“

“Hurts,” Foggy interrupts. “But is fine. I think.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have gotten here sooner, I should have-“

Foggy pulls him into an awkward one armed hug, trying to avoid his arm which isn’t bleeding _copiously_ but it ain’t fun, either.

“I’m fine, Matt. I promise.”

Matt presses his face down into the juncture between Foggy’s neck and shoulder and Foggy tries to remember to breathe. It helps that the mask is really uncomfortable against him.

“I’ll still be happier if you go see Claire,” he mumbles.

“I haven’t met Claire yet. It’ll be fun!”

Matt snorts.

“I’m fine, too.” Karen sounds more amused than annoyed. “If you’re done over there.”

 

Foggy _really_ likes Claire.

The second she opens the door to see Matt, Elektra, Karen, and Foggy standing there, she groans.

“Can you not keep your shit together for more than one second, Murdock?” she demands, solidifying Foggy’s love for her forever and ever.

“It’s not me,” he says. “It’s Foggy and Karen.”

Claire surveys them, gaze lingering on Foggy.

“Of course,” she mutters. “Not you, for once. Well, come on in at three in the morning.”

She assigns Matt to look Karen over, because “quit _hovering_ , Matt, Foggy’s going to be fine, he doesn’t even need stitches, _now back off_ ” and to Foggy’s relief Karen’s fine. Matt returns to sit with Foggy. Claire gives him daggers.

“If you tell me how to do my job, Murdock,” she says flatly. “I will gut you like a fish.”

Claire gets added to the _Bitch About Superassholes_ group chat of him and Karen.

 

Elektra brings Karen a tray of cupcakes the next morning. Karen’s startled.

“What are these for?”

“To apologize,” Elektra says. “For not arriving sooner last night.” She smiles at Karen, and Karen goes pink.

“Um. Uh. Thanks.”

Foggy looks on speculatively.

 

“You should train Karen to fight the way you trained me to fight,” Foggy suggests to Elektra. “Just in case.”

Elektra looks up from where she’s painting her nails black with silver stripes on Foggy’s floor. “Really? Do you think so?”

“I mean, it’d be smart, right?”

“Hm.” Elektra nods. “I’ll ask her.”

 

Karen texts Foggy.

**Are you trying to set me up with Elektra through fighting maneuvers?**

Foggy texts back. **Conceivably.**

**Hm.**

A few seconds later.

**Thanks.**

**You’re welcome.**

 

Elektra and Karen seem to get tighter. Elektra frequently brings Karen trinkets that she claims she “happened on” and thought Karen might enjoy. One is a simple amethyst pendant that Karen never seems to take off. Karen in return gives her a garnet ring that seems to always be on Elektra’s finger. They talk about each other all the time. Foggy feels inordinately pleased with himself. 

“Did you set up Elektra and Karen?” Matt asks while Karen and Elektra are out for lunch together on Karen’s break.

“Who, me?” Foggy asks innocently. Matt snorts.

 

There’s a frantic knock on Foggy’s door and he opens it up sleepily. Elektra is standing there, looking panicked. Foggy’s instantly alert.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

Elektra strides in, closing the door behind her. She pulls down the right shoulder of her loose blouse.

Her Mark is no longer the same as Foggy’s. Rather, it’s a rose with a crown of thrones around it, the letters KAP in precise script underneath.

Foggy stares for a second, then recovers his tongue. “Go see Karen.”

“What?”

“Go see Karen, I’m serious, right now.”

Elektra looks hopeful. “You think she’s-“

“ _Go_.”

Elektra practically trips over her feet to get her out. A few hours Foggy gets a text from Karen.

**Thank you.**

 

Foggy shows Elektra his Mark a few weeks later. It feels fair. She gazes at it, and then sighs.

“Ah, Franklin.”

“I know.”

“Who knows?”

“You. My parents. Karen.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

Elektra accepts that, and Foggy loves her a little bit for it.

 

Foggy goes with Matt sometimes to the gym and they chat while he boxes. Foggy sits on the floor, talking about cases or just how the day is going. It’s quiet and it’s wonderful.

 

Elektra bangs on his door again early in the morning. Foggy opens the door groggily.

“You know that I have normal visiting hours, right?” he mumbles.

Elektra’s still in her action attire. “You need to go see Matthew.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. _Go_.”

Foggy’s awake. “Is he hurt?”

“ _Now_ , Foggy.”

Foggy starts. It’s the first time she’s called him Foggy. He pulls on a jacket and leaves.

 

Foggy slams his hand into Matt’s door. Matt’s got a loose shirt on and a pair of boxers; he and Matt have long since bypassed the need to wear pants around each other. 

“What’s going on?”

Foggy barges in. “Elektra says I need to see you.”

Matt stills. “Does she?”

“What’s going on, Matt?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Bullshit.” Foggy starts pacing. “You can’t lie to me, Matt, you should know that by now.”

Matt stares at him for a long time, so long that Foggy wonders if he’s ever going to speak again. Then he sighs. “Don’t hate me.”

“I can’t hate you.” And it’s true, he can’t. He can be furious at him, want to throw chairs around because of how _goddamn infuriating_ he is, but he can never hate him.

Matt turns around and tugs his shirt off. He reaches behind him and carefully peels off the skin patch that’s in between his shoulder blades. 

Right on his back, in the vulnerable spot, is a small pair of wings. The wings are mostly white, but they’re also shot with black, haphazard dark feathers scattered over the pale. Underneath it, in Foggy’s hasty loops, are the initials _FPN._

Foggy’s heart does somersaults. He steps forwards until he’s close enough that he’s pretty sure Matt can feel his breath on him. He reaches out a little hesitantly, then pulls back; he still can’t touch the Mark without permission.

“That’s me,” he whispers.

“Elektra saw it when she was checking my injuries,” Matt tells him hoarsely. He turns around and Foggy wishes he wouldn’t, wishes he could see that Mark for the rest of his life. “Are you mad at me?”

Foggy giggles. He’s pretty sure that’s the wrong reaction, can tell from Matt’s face, his entire body language that he knows so well, that he’s confused. He can’t help himself, though.

It’s so goddamn _stupid_ and _funny_.

“I’ve been star crossed,” he whispers. “ _By myself._ ”

“What?”

Foggy slips his wrist cuff off and holds his wrist out to Matt. Matt stares.

“Can I…” he breathes. 

Foggy nods, swallows, and then says “Yeah.”

Matt reaches out and traces the letters on Foggy’s skin. All at once, Foggy feels a tremendous serenity, a terrific peace. He swallows.

“It’s always been you,” he tells Matt. “I knew it was you since we met.”

“I knew it was you, too. I lied about soulmates, I didn’t want you to be tied to someone like me, I didn’t want you to be bound to someone so broken-“

“You stupid idiot.” Foggy can’t stop grinning. “You stupid goddamn idiot.”

Matt’s grinning too, still looking down at Foggy’s wrist. “That’s not very romantic.”

“Please, like we were ever going to be romantic.” Foggy leans his forehead against Matt’s and slips his wrist so he’s holding Matt’s hand. “You stupid idiot,” he repeats.

“ _You_ stupid idiot,” Matt corrects. Foggy shakes his head slightly, barely scraping against Matt’s.

“ _Both_ stupid idiots.”

Matt’s smile is the best thing Foggy’s ever seen, the best thing he will ever see. “I can accept that, counselor.”

When Foggy kisses him, Matt slides his hand back to encircle Foggy’s wrist and Foggy’s hand moves to his back, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

 

Foggy’s birthday is three weeks later, and his mothers insist on throwing a party for him. Foggy, Matt, Karen, Elektra, and Marci all meet on the way. Marci and Elektra eye each other coolly before sharing regal nods and chatting idly. Foggy’s pretty terrified at the idea of them teaming up.

“If I was a betting woman, Foggy Bear,” Marci says sweetly, observing Matt and Foggy’s linked hands. “I’d say I knew it.”

“You _are_ a betting woman,” Foggy observes dryly. “You’re just not betting with anyone who knows me cause who else do you know that knows me?”

She smirks. “That’s fair.”

They arrive at his moms’s door, Mom opening it before Foggy could even pull his key out. “Welcome to the Nelson Birthday Extravaganza! Featuring excellent treats from Mama Nelson and lots of beer-“ she freezes, seeing Matt and Foggy’s hands. Both still, Foggy knowing the two of them are sharing identical panic that Mom won’t be happy about it. Matt strokes Foggy’s Mark back and forth with his thumb, something that’s become a calming tic for both of them.

“ _I KNEW IT!_ ” Mom screams. “I _FUCKING_ KNEW IT!” She dashes off. “ALICE! _ALICE!_ YOU OWE ME MONEY! I _FUCKING_ KNEW IT! _ALICE!_ ” 

People walking their dogs on the street look curiously at them. Matt buries his face in Foggy’s shoulder in mortification as Karen, Elektra, and Marci just cackle. Foggy wraps an arm around Matt, grinning widely and laughing so hard, he feels like he might burst from it all.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been, no lie, working on this fic since shortly after Daredevil Season 1 came out. But then I accidentally lost three or four pages of work I'd typed up and couldn't look at it for a while, and only recently started working on it again. I hope y'all like it!


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